


one or two more smiles from you

by Anonymous



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F, Huddling For Warmth, Not Season/Series 02 Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:54:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Is that what you're doing here until the storm passes?" asked Eve.  "Getting drunk and watching HBO?""The TV also has BBC America and AMC and something called Starz," said Villanelle.  "There are, like, four hundred channels.  Also Netflix." She headed back out to the main room.  "We can Netflix and chill."





	one or two more smiles from you

After some shopping on the other side of the border, Villanelle had all she needed to wait out the storm: a case of champagne, several pounds of smoked meat from Montreal, and enough cheese, if properly prepared, to kill twenty men. It was a good thing, too, she thought, rummaging through the house's cupboards. All the food here came in cardboard boxes. There was something calling itself hot chocolate that was meant to be made by mixing a powder in hot water. Villanelle shuddered. Some things were completely unconscionable.

The house had a giant television and all the channels. Villanelle was in the middle of flipping through them while doing one-handed push-ups (storms in America were boring, in Russia there was always someone stumbling-down drunk and knife fights), when she heard a car engine approaching.

There had been a little trouble earlier in the afternoon. (She hadn't killed him.) A police car had come around and the policeman had knocked on the doors.

"You aware there's a storm, miss?" he'd asked.

She'd wanted to kill him. "Yes."

"It's only, people don't come around here in winter."

She gave him her sunniest smile and best American accent. "I know, I'm on a creative retreat."

"Oh," he said. "You're an artist. What kind of art do you do?"

"I'm a lifestyle blogger." Okay. She had wanted to kill herself a little then, just for saying that, but when you told people you were internet famous, nobody asked any more questions.

He didn't. He simply put his hat back on his fat bald head and said, "Well, hope your retreat is productive. We're just a phone call away, in case you need anything. Or see anything."

"Like what?" It was a resort town in the dead of winter. She'd have preferred a safe house in something resembling a city, but the storm was coming on and she didn't want to drive in the snow.

He paused for thought. She expected it to take much longer. "Some of the folks say we got illegals breaking into people's lake houses in the winter."

There had been a key hidden in one of those obviously fake plastic rocks. It had been sitting two feet from the back porch. The key had the security code written on it in red marker. She smiled and wanted to kill him very much. "I'll let you know," she said, and waved him goodbye.

If he was back, looking for illegals, she _was_ going to kill him. There was a standing freezer in the garage that would hold his body nicely. No smells to alert anyone until the owners arrived for the summer.

But, as she crouched out of sight by the front windows, she saw it was not a police car that approached. It was a rental--no snow tires--and it came to a cautious halt between the house Villanelle was in, and its neighbor on the right.

And when the driver got out, she swore and yanked the hood of the coat over her hair. Her full, dark, glorious hair.

Villanelle was suddenly very glad that she'd stopped here. Any further and Eve wouldn't have been able to drive in this weather.

She opened the front door and called out, in her American accent, "I'm sorry, are you lost?"

The expression on Eve's face was priceless. Villanelle clapped her hands and laughed. "Come in," she said, dropping the accent, "it's fucking freezing out there."

"I didn't do this for a social visit," Eve said. "I'm going to--"

"Your shitty rental place didn't put snow tires on your shitty rental car." Villanelle would have bounded out the door gleefully to meet her, but it was really fucking cold. "So you are stuck here until it stops snowing or until my contact picks me up."

"Your contact." Eve was coming closer, hands out of her pockets. Her breath was white against the air and it reminded Villanelle of Moscow.

She shrugged. "My first driver dropped me off here and went to another job. My second will pick me up in another day." Her car--with snow tires, because she'd grown up with somewhere with actual winter--was parked in the neighboring house's garage. There'd been another plastic rock. 

Eve scanned her face, the house. It was one of those American old-fashioned pointy white houses, with big windows and narrow steps. It looked like it had been around for maybe a hundred years and on the verge of falling apart for ninety of them. "Is this one of the Twelve's safe houses?"

"This place? We found it on Airbnb. Pretty cheap, too. It's the off season."

"Okay," Eve said. "Promise not to kill me?"

Villanelle crossed her arms. "You promise not to kill me." Her stomach itched when she said it, where the dagger had nicked her after glancing off the Kevlar. Thank god for bulletproof sports bras. Fashionable _and_ functional.

"That was kind of an accident," said Eve, visibly wincing.

Villanelle had stabbed people on accident before. It was easy to do, if you had enough blades and people didn't respect your personal space. Also, when she stabbed people on purpose, they usually died. "Get your car inside so it doesn't freeze over and kill the engine. I'll open the garage."

Eve did. She seemed to scrutinize the car again, as if finally looking for snow chains. Villanelle felt a rush of tenderness for her, like a tiny baby bird that would fit in the palm of her hand. (She had never held a baby bird in the palm of her hand. She had once fought a Muscovy duck, but only after it had attacked her. She'd been six or seven years old. She hated birds.) Eve had probably learned where she would be and caught the first flight out and didn't bother checking the weather or getting a coat that wasn't shapeless and olive green with some of that fake brown fur around the hood or cuffs. Villanelle didn't want her to freeze to death, but she also wanted to enjoy looking Eve Polastri without ugly clothing getting in the way.

"Okay," she said, walking through the garage door into the house and finally shucking off that coat. She pulled off her gloves, too, and made sure she was out of range before taking off her boots. "I've been wearing thick socks and driving for five hours, so this might smell."

"I think I'm okay with that," said Villanelle.

Eve straightened up and pushed her hair back. "Ah. Um. Yes." She was now looking around the interior of the house, like she expected Villanelle to have a corkboard and checklist of dastardly plans out. 

Villanelle wasn't an amateur. She had an _iPad_. If she needed to scheme, she schemed on that.

"I'll get you something to eat and drink," said Villanelle, and slipped into the kitchen.

She sliced some bread, put cheese on top of it, and stuck it in the toaster oven to melt, then filled the kettle and got out two mugs from the cupboards. One said I [cheese emoji] Wisconsin and the other was for some sort of sports team. She should have bought coffee in Canada too, but there was instant and anyway she'd had way worse. She just gave herself twice as many grounds as the jar said to.

Through the window, she could see the snow starting to come down in earnest, the air getting thick and white and nasty. The toaster oven was dinging, the kettle whistling, and there were footsteps in the hallway.

Villanelle turned around and Eve was there. "That smells divine. Can I help?"

Her socks were purple, thin at the heels. Villanelle liked them a lot. "It's almost all done." The kettle started screaming and she poured the water into the two mugs. "This one's yours," she said, handing Eve the sports one.

Eve looked at it dubiously.

"I promise you, I did not poison it. Although maybe it would taste better if I had." She took out plates and put the toast onto them, grabbed her cheese mug. "You could also have champagne but you have to promise not to smash the bottle."

"It's two in the afternoon," said Eve.

Villanelle shrugged. "Maybe later?"

"Is that what you're doing here until the storm passes?" asked Eve. "Getting drunk and watching HBO?"

"The TV also has BBC America and AMC and something called Starz," said Villanelle. "There are, like, four hundred channels. Also Netflix." She headed back out to the main room. "We can Netflix and chill."

Eve followed her, already eating the toast. "I'm married."

"I know," said Villanelle. "I've fucked married people before." She put her plate and mug down on the coffee table.

Eve sat on a chair instead of the sofa, which was a disappointment because it meant Villanelle could not sit next to her, like right next to her, and slowly transition to cuddling, but she was also eating the toast and making what Villanelle was pretty sure was her o-face.

"You stay there," said Villanelle. "I'll light the fire."

"In case the power goes out and takes the central heating with it?"

"I guess," said Villanelle. "Also, I just like starting fires."

Eve tucked her feet under her. Villanelle was pretty sure she was watching her at the hearth and not the TV. She wriggled her butt a little more as she worked. "Hey."

It took Eve a few seconds to say, "Hey what?" So Villanelle knew she'd totally been staring at her butt.

"You can take the other toast too. There's more bread and lots more cheese."

A small crunch. "You," said Eve, "are dangerous."

"I know." The kindling caught and Villanelle drew her head back. She loved a good fire. Konstantin had always been against burning things down, and, despite that, she missed him a little. "Next round is a different kind of cheese." She tossed the remote to Eve. "Find something to watch; I'll be back."

Her coffee was still bad but the gruyere was good. She'd layered ham on top of it, which was better. Eve had started some spy movie that was totally unrealistic, but the sets were nice, and she didn't even give Villanelle shit for starting in on the champagne. (Setting fires was thirsty work.) She even took a flute but she drank it very, very slowly. Villanelle stretched her feet out across the table to nudge Eve's knees with them and Eve totally went pink. It wasn't the fire or the alcohol, it was _Villanelle_.

She had high hopes for this storm, right up until about ten minutes from the end of the movie they were watching, when there was an especially loud gust of wind, a crackling noise, and then the TV went blank.

"What the fuck," said Eve.

The lights were still on, which was good. "Cable must be down." She took another sip of champagne. "It wasn't a very good movie anyway."

Eve sighed and leaned back into the couch. "Yeah, probably not. You think the electricity will be okay?"

"Who knows? At least we have a fire."

Eve sighed again. "You want to look for some candles?"

"Not really."

"Me neither."

They sat there, staring at the blank TV for a while. Villanelle said, "You know, a nice fire can be very romantic--"

"I'm going to go look for candles," Eve said, and got up.

Villanelle sat back on the couch. She was so under-appreciated. It was tragic.

Eve came back with a handful of candles and a couple of cardboard boxes, which she set down on the coffee table without a second glance at how VIllanelle had artfully draped herself over the sofa cushions. "I'm going to get some saucers to put these on," she said, and headed off to the kitchen.

Villanelle pulled her shirt up and craned her neck around. "What are these?"

"There was this whole closet full of board games," said Eve from the kitchen. "I figured, well, the power's out and who knows when the storm will be over, we could play a few. Wow, this is a lot of meat."

"It's what the quebecois do best." She sat up and began looking at the boxes in earnest. They were sort of old and dusty and their covers were garish but they had rules and anyway one of them was about murder. "Have as much as you want, in case the power does go."

Eve said something that sounded like it was garbled through a full mouth. Villanelle smiled to herself and started to read the directions. 

"Clue," said Eve, setting down a new bottle of champagne (yes) as she settled back into the armchair (no). "You like Clue?"

"You're the detective," said Villanelle, and uncaged and -corked the bottle. She did it properly, like a sommelier. The little pfft of air sometimes made her think of the air escaping from a corpse, although Irina had said it sounded like the bottle was farting, and Villanelle had gone and laughed, and now she couldn't _not_ think of it as a fart.

Eve started setting things up. "I think that gives me the advantage here."

"Maybe," said Villanelle, "We'll have to play to find out."

The first time they played Clue, Eve won. The second time they played Clue, Eve won. The third time they played Clue, Eve said, "Maybe you should stop telling me about what Miss Scarlet did in the Conservatory with the candlestick. Also, the hand movements are totally unnecessary."

"Are they really?" Villanelle brought the little metal candlestick to her lips.

Eve buried her face in her hands. She was struggling to repress something. Villanelle waited it out, but eventually she had to drop the candlestick so she could pick up her glass again. It was probably laughter anyway, not full-blown lust.

Finally Eve looked up. "Maybe we should play a different game." She busied herself with putting away the Clue pieces, looking at the other boxes. "We have the game of Life and Monopoly." She looked them over again. "Let's play Monopoly."

"Okay," said Villanelle, when she saw the brightly colored bills. "It's a game about money, right? I love money."

Monopoly _was_ a game about money. Villanelle had always thought herself pretty good with money. She had a lot of it. She knew how to get more, if her accounts were being watched or she was locked out of them. She had a _feel_ for it. She was totally going to kick ass at Monopoly.

An hour later, Eve jolted back in her chair as the little houses and hotels and all those stupid cards scattered onto the floor. The money drifted down more slowly.

"Was that really necessary?" Eve asked.

Villanelle stood up and grabbed the champagne bucket. "I'm going to get more snow for this," she said abruptly. She headed out the door, not stopping for Eve's protests, just to step into her boots, pull on her coat, and flip its hood up. She got her gloves out of the pockets and jerked them on as she went.

What the fuck, she thought, tramping down to the lake. The snow was little light flakes but there were a lot of them and she had to squint as she headed down and dug some of the freshly fallen stuff out for the bucket. How the fuck had Eve managed to buy all those properties? And put hotels on them? And charge Villanelle ridiculous amounts of rent?

She found a tree stump and sat there in her squashy coat, staring out at the frozen lake. Villanelle didn't like being bad at things. Even stupid things, like board games, or Irina's social media apps, or therapy. She rooted around in her pocket for her phone. She'd paid extra for these dumb touchscreen finger pad gloves back in France and she was very glad she had now because even with the gloves, her hands were cold. "How do you win at Monopoly," she typed into the search bar. A lot of people had addressed this question but none of them seemed to have good advice. She revised the query to "how do you win at Monopoly when you are playing against someone who is really, really good" but most of the answers were the same and she got a warning that her battery was low even though she'd just charged it when she got to the house. Twenty-two percent? And dropping?

Fucking piece of shit. She kicked at the snow, shoved the phone into her pocket, grabbed the bucket, and headed back to the house, where her charger was. But when she opened the door she saw Eve's boots were gone.

Villanelle swore, dropped the bucket, and turned around. "Eve!" she yelled. "Eve? Come in, it's really fucking cold outside!"

She thought she heard something, but she couldn't be sure with these fucking winds.

"All right," she said, "fuck it, this time I find you."

Eve hadn't come around the back of the house or Villanelle would have seen her, or Eve would have seen Villanelle, and gone back. Or, well--no, the garage door was closed and there was half a foot of snow in front of it, so her stupid chainless car was still there. There were sort of dents in the snow leaving from the front porch, and Villanelle followed them, hoping they were footprints.

She'd really been looking forward to taking her gloves and socks and everything else off and getting warm again, too.

The snow was falling faster now, and Villanelle decided to head for the road. Someone had salted it, nobody would be driving on it, and she could walk faster on it. She could see both sides from it, even if she couldn't see much. There were a few silvery trees on each side, and some hills, and the distant shapes of other giant holiday houses. Villanelle disapproved. If she'd wanted great stretches of nothing but snow and trees and the occasional bear she'd have stayed in Russia. At least there they had drinking games instead of board ones. Board games, more like boring games. And--

Bear. A dark shape out of the corner of her eye, huddled next to a tree. Except maybe it wasn't a bear.

"Shit." She crashed off the road, her boots crunching through the snow. She had to tug her feet out, once or twice, and she nearly tripped over some stupid branches, but after fifty feet she was at the tree and there was Eve in her cheap coat, not waterproof enough and already soaked through with half-melted snow. So were her jeans and they were getting worse, as she was both slumped against the tree and sitting on the snow-covered ground. "Eve," she said, grabbing her shoulders. Her stupid coat's hood had fallen off too, and snow was collecting in her hair. "Eve," she said again, and shook her.

"Wha." But her eyes opened.

Villanelle sobbed in relief. It was a strange feeling.

She shoved her arms under Eve's armpits and locked them around her. "You're fucking freezing. Come on, we're going back inside."

"Five more minutes," slurred Eve. "Jus' five more minutes, Niko, promise."

"Fuck that," said Villanelle, and hauled her upright, walking her back towards the road. The snow was coming down harder now. "Come on, walk with me."

Eve sagged and muttered something about being tired. The last time she'd talked about being tired she'd stabbed Villanelle, but that didn't look like it was on the table today.

"Come on. One step, and then the other. One step, and then the other." They managed a shuffling, shambling pace back, Villanelle taking most of Eve's weight. "You're heavier than I thought you would be, you know? When we get back, only small pieces of cheese for you."

Eve didn't respond to that either, and Villanelle tried to hurry up because she knew how Eve felt about cheese.

When she got Eve to the house--she let her down onto the sofa with an "ooof" and ran back to shut the door and pull off her boots--her eyelids were bluish. Her hands, once Villanelle had removed both mittens, were like ice.

"Shit," said Villanelle. "Shit, shit, shit." There must be a bathtub somewhere, but filling it up would take too long and anyway, the fire was right there. There was also a floor rug and some kind of throw on the back of the sofa and another on the chair. She wasn't running to a bedroom for blankets because, again, too long, too far away, and Eve needed to get warm now.

So she took off Eve's clothes. "I normally do this slow and sexy-like," she told Eve. "You remember." Her fingers were pushing aside the sodden fabric, pulling the sweater over Eve's head, the jeans off her legs. "Next time I will do it with my teeth." She found a big canister of pepper spray in the coat pocket, a tiny one in the coin pocket of her jeans, and a miniature pistol in an ankle holster. "Damn. You really, really like me." Eve's eyelids fluttered but Villanelle didn't actually think she was listening. She was cold and unconscious and didn't protest when Villanelle got her onto the rug in front of the fire. For a very brief moment, Villanelle thought of taking off her panties, which had somehow remained dry, but they were a little saggy and a faded teal and there was a tiny hole on the left side of the bum and Villanelle thought they were sort of charming. Plus, if she was removing more clothes than she absolutely had to while Eve was unconscious, she'd feel like a creep, so she just unhooked Eve's damp bra and tossed it onto the wet clothes pile before putting both throws over Eve.

"It's okay," she said. "This is mostly for the body heat."

Villanelle shimmied out of her own clothes. It was fucking cold, even inside, and she bit her lip as she sat herself down in front of the fire, letting her skin soak in the warmth, before she slid under the throws with Eve and wrapped her arms around Eve's head. She'd read somewhere that people lost lots of heat through their heads, so to make sure Eve retained hers, Villanelle stuck Eve's face, which was cold, between her tits, which were hot.

"You're welcome," she told Eve, patting her head. Eve's nose felt like ice on her sternum, but her hair was nice between Villanelle's fingers and also warming a little.

It was kind of weird because Villanelle would like to be enjoying finally being naked and next to Eve Polastri, but she found that she kept thinking of that pinprick hole in Eve's underwear. She wanted to kiss it. She wanted to steal those underwear and frame them. She really, really liked that underwear out of all proportion to its objective sexiness. There was something about it that made her feel kind of tingly and tender. Tender. _Mon Dieu_. Over a stupid pair of holey pants.

When Eve said, groggily and against her skin, "I thought you might have run away," Villanelle did not say, "Can I have your pants?" but it was close.

"Why would you think that?" Villanelle asked. Eve's face was between her tits. Neither of them was wearing more than the bare minimum. It was depressing to be thinking about anything except Eve's almost naked, demonstrably alive, totally hot, body at the moment. 

"Because you lied to me," Eve said, and hauled herself up, her head popping out of the throws. She looked at the fire, then Villanelle, and then at the fire again. "God, it's freezing."

"I know. Let's go back to sharing body heat."

She was tempted, Villanelle could tell. But what she actually did was sit up and wrap one of the throws around her, holding her hands out to the fire. Villanelle thought that maybe she should get up and make something hot to drink, but she could also lie here and enjoy the view. She was once again feeling under-appreciated, and said so.

"Okay, you probably saved my life," said Eve. "But I wouldn't have been in danger if I hadn't gone looking for you."

"Why did you do that?" asked Villanelle.

"I thought you'd gone out to your car and were going to drive off to where I couldn't find you," said Eve. Villanelle opened her mouth to protest. "It's no use telling me you don't have one, I found the keys in your purse."

"You searched my purse?" Villanelle wasn't outraged. Maybe a little turned on.

"I rummaged through it while you were cooking," said Eve. No apologies.

"You are so hot to me right now."

Eve cleared her throat. Was she blushing? "Well, I'm pleasantly surprised you didn't leave me to freeze to death in an abandoned wilderness, but you were gone a long time. I may have started to panic. I mean, I'd just found you--"

Villanelle sat up. The throw slithered off her. Eve didn't look away. "I wouldn't run away," she said. "I'm having a rest and eating good food and drinking good wine with a beautiful woman. Why would I run away when I am having such a great time?"

Eve frowned. "You did throw the game to the ground."

"Okay. Yes. I did. But it was a stupid game."

"Oh my god," said Eve, her shoulders beginning to heave. "You were outside so long because you were sulking! Sulking because you were losing at Monopoly!"

"I was doing research," Villanelle began, and Eve lost it. She started laughing so hard she grabbed Villanelle's arm for support, and Villanelle--

Villanelle could see the humor in it. "Yeah, it was pretty dumb." After all, Eve had stabbed her and she could have died, and she'd been more upset that she couldn't win at a board game? A board game where a hat and a dog and a fucking wheelbarrow bought properties and collected rent?

Eve was bent into two and pounding the floor. "I nearly died because you don't like losing," she wheezed. "Oh my god, I am such an idi--"

"I wouldn't have let you die," said Villanelle, folding herself over Eve's back. "I didn't realize how long I'd been gone. Also, your clothes are, like, really shitty." That just made Eve laugh harder. Villanelle could feel it in her ribs. "Let me buy you a winter wardrobe."

"Oh god."

"You know you want me to."

"It would be unethical and probably illegal--"

"But baby," said Villanelle, trying to murmur into Eve's ear even as she kept shaking with laughter, "it's cold outside."

Eve turned her head. "You went there," she said, and then seemed to realize that her face was a few inches from Villanelle's and they were sort of cuddling in front of an open fire and almost entirely naked.

And maybe that the last time they'd been that close, it had ended in grievous bodily harm. 

"I must be crazy," said Eve, and kissed her.

It was a nice kiss. Eve went hard and fast and it surprised Villanelle, because she really hadn't expected that of her, but she'd heard that near-death experiences could do this to people, sometimes.

She wasn't complaining. Eve sort of flipped them over so Villanelle was lying on her back on the rug and half a throw in front of the fire, and Eve was straddling her hips, and had her hands pinning Villanelle's arms to the floor, and kissed Villanelle again, with teeth.

Villanelle just kissed her back. Eve was probably working through some stuff. Besides, Villanelle liked the idea that tomorrow she would be covered in Eve's teethmarks. And hickeys. So many hickeys. She shuddered, and Eve looked up from where she'd been sucking on Villanelle's throat. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," said Villanelle. "Just really, really turned on."

"Oh," said Eve. She seemed to realize she had a death grip on Villanelle's arms and relaxed it a little. 

Villanelle pouted. She'd been looking forward to having bruises in the shape of Eve's fingers, too.

"Is this," Eve began, hushed, as she traced the scar between Villanelle's breasts with one hand.

"Yes," said Villanelle. The other hand had slid, as if magnetically drawn, to Villanelle's right tit, and was doing absolutely nothing there as Eve focused on the scar. "It's okay, that's why my work bras are made of Kevlar."

"I shouldn't have--"

Villanelle laid a finger over Eve's lips, caressed her neck, jaw, face. Hair. "Are we going to talk about our feelings," she asked, "or are we going to fuck?"

Eve reeled back a little, and then she came back in, eyes flashing in the firelight, thighs squeezing Villanelle's hips, fingers pinching her nipple. "We are so going to fuck. I've just never--with someone I almost killed."

"It's not really all that different," Villanelle assured her. She curved up to meet Eve, licked a long swath up her neck and kissed her just below her ear. "What's different is it's you and me."

Eve shuddered. Villanelle wondered if she was ticklish. That would have been fun, to have Eve down on a bed, squirming and laughing and breathlessly begging for mercy.

Maybe next time. She didn't want to wait to move this to a bed. She couldn't have if she tried.

They stayed in front of the fire. It was nice. It wasn't fucking freezing, its flickering light was kind of sexy, and Eve's nose was still a little chilly when she was kissing the scar tissue. It was hot. Villanelle slipped her hand down Eve's back, squeezed her bum through those distracting underpants, then slipped her fingers into the waistband and--

Eve bit down on the meat of Villanelle's breast and she fucking liked it. "Sorry, sorry," Eve said, kissing the toothmarks, so Villanelle wasn't going to tell her how good it had felt. "I was expecting maybe a little more warning."

"Oops," said Villanelle, and rubbed Eve's clit again before slipping a couple of fingers in. She was so _wet_.

"Fuck!" She bit Villanelle again. It was amazing.

Villanelle could have kept this up all day, and she tried--she really did, Eve righted herself after the first orgasm, shook her head, and then said, "Really?" as Villanelle delved back in again--but after the second she gasped and her back arched of its own accord and Eve had to grab her non-fingering hand to steady herself and she still came crashing down on top of Villanelle anyway. Villanelle wasn't complaining about Eve's weight on her, or her hair in her mouth, or the noise Eve made as the change in position changed the position of Villanelle's fingers inside her. But.

"Sorry," she said. "I should have warned you." She hadn't been expecting to come from the pleasure of pleasuring Eve. That had not been part of any of her fantasies when she'd masturbated previously. She might have to add it, though.

"Don't apologize," said Eve, shaking her head, talking into Villanelle's throat. "Wow."

"I told you," said Villanelle. "Netflix and chill."

Eve snorted. "I could have done without the hypothermia part of chill, thanks. Speaking of which, you do know it's not necessary to take off all your clothes to share body heat."

"Your clothes were damp."

"Were yours?"

Villanelle assumed the most innocent expression she could. "I thought it would be weird if we weren't equally naked. Besides, any opportunity I can, I take off my bra."

Eve snorted. "That tracks." Villanelle traced her spine, and she melted into it. "God, I hope I remembered to pack more underwear."

"I'll lend you some of mine." Villanelle liked that thought, the thought of Eve wearing her underwear, as much as she liked the ones Eve was wearing right now. "But you have to promise to return them unwashed."

"Wow," said Eve, and raised herself up to check if Villanelle was joking or not. "I don't remember being such a horndog at your age." And before Villanelle could even defend herself: "I kind of like it."

"I'll take the pair you're wearing now as a down payment," Villanelle said.

Eve looked down at her and idly tucked her hair behind her ear. Villanelle shivered at the touch. "Aren't you getting ahead of yourself?" she asked finally. "The storm's not supposed to stop until Thursday, the cable's still out, and I've learned my lesson about playing board games with you."

"Hey, that was one time," Villanelle protested, as Eve stood up and started walking away, then came back to grab one of the throws from the floor and wrap it around herself. "Where are you going?"

She didn't like the way she sounded but Eve must have because she smiled. "There's a giant bathtub upstairs. I found it while I was looking for candles." She held out the other throw to Villanelle. "You're welcome to join me if you want to."

"If I want to?" Villanelle darted in to kiss Eve, and liked the way Eve inhaled quickly, startled. "Lead the way."


End file.
